


Whispered Welcome

by MacBeka, OKami_hu



Series: Various Welcomes [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 17:36:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6204517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacBeka/pseuds/MacBeka, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OKami_hu/pseuds/OKami_hu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders settles in Kirkwall and on top of his to-do list is meeting with an old friend and possibly rekindling an old flame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispered Welcome

Kirkwall was a lot less fun than what they said about it, and those tales weren’t pretty to begin with.

City of Chains. It had such a lovely ring to it, right? Not to mention the Gallows. Anders felt the urge to hide as the ship passed the tower; he had to remind himself that no one knew he was here.

It was easy to disappear amongst the refugees, to get away from Wardens and templars alike. Here, he was just another Fereldan, escaping the blighted lands and trying to find a new home.

Justice was pulsing inside, anger and urgency throbbing in the back of Anders’ mind. He didn’t just come here to hide. He had to help the mages, but he had no chance alone. In such a big city as Kirkwall, that had a Circle, there were bound to be likeminded souls though, people who could help him.

One of them was inside of the Gallows, too.

It took one and a half weeks to send the first message. Being a wanted and possessed apostate didn’t pay too well. Anders looked around for a job, but he couldn’t find anything. He noticed however the misery of the refugees, who huddled together in Darktown’s shadows, abandoned and forgotten. The Chantry didn’t seem to care; and after Anders witnessed a man coughing up blood on the street, he knew what he had to do.

The job still didn’t pay, but at least it earned him a free meal every day from a friendly innkeeper, and a hole to crawl back to every night.

Bare essentials established, Anders set his sights on building an underground resistance. The beginnings of it were already there, but more help never hurt, so he composed a careful message, entrusted it to a reliable associate and waited.

Karl received the message from Ser Thrask, who ensured that the mail wasn't read or opened by the other templars, who liked to raid them for information or any valuables in the envelope. He thanked Thrask with a confused frown. Who would be sending him a letter? He had no family, and no friends, so who was it?

He turned the letter over to look at the writing on the front and his heart leapt. He would recognise that writing anywhere, he was sure. He found his spot in the library easily, hidden amongst the books but not so hidden that anyone could accuse him of blood magic. He tore into the envelope excitedly and read it with a grin on his face.

“My dearly loved Karl,” the tall, hastily scrawled letters read, “I hope you’re in the best of health. It’s been so long since we last talked and I apologize for my silence. Life has been rather busy, to say at least. You wouldn’t believe the adventures Fate set me up to.

“I’ve missed you much ever since we parted ways and I’ve recalled our conversations many times with a fond heart. I wouldn’t know if you feel the same; if I have faded from your memory, I’d understand. But if not, if you still remember our heated banters and stolen moments, all the plans we had as foolish youths, we could perhaps start anew. I have settled down, not too far; your messages will find me.

“It would be great to see you but I know that mages are busy folk, and reclusive to boot. If you’re willing to leave the safety of the Circle though - if the First Enchanter can part from you - perhaps we could see each other again. I keep wondering if you’ve started graying. Tell the templars not to worry; I’ll keep an eye on you, like I had back in Kinloch. Write me back soon; if you send the letter to the Hanged Man, I’ll pick it up. Hopefully no one will steal it on the way. Your friend: A.”

The entire thing felt a bit forced, but Anders was never good with bullshitting. Blunt honesty and his charisma always worked better for him. The letter was still carefully worded, so in case the templars caught it, it betrayed little of the sender.

The message was clear though; Anders was in Kirkwall and he wanted to meet his old friend. Possibly not for just chatting; those plans they had as foolish youths were rather serious.

Karl’s heart ached at the thought of Anders, of their whispers in the brief moments they could find to be together. He had missed him so much, and without anyone else since, he had become rather lonely. He went to one of the desks in the corner of the library and grabbed some parchment. He dipped the pen in the ink and then stopped. What was he going to write? What he wanted to say wasn't appropriate for a letter, and there was still the great risk of the letter being caught by the Templars, even if he gave it to Thrask.

He took a deep breath and started:

_A, I have missed you terribly. I am glad you are well, I had feared the worst when we received no news of your whereabouts or wellbeing. You know how I worry for you. You have not faded from memory at all. Every moment I have is still as fresh as it was the day we made them, and they keep me from the cold and loneliness of these walls. I would very much like to hear of your adventures since we last saw each other, I expect maximum drama! My heart longs to see you. If you come to the Gallows courtyard on a Thursday morning, I will be there with the Tranquil. I hope you come, but if it's too dangerous don't make the trip. Love, Karl._

The letter traveled for a while, through several hands to ensure no-one was following it, but it eventually ended up in the right person’s grasp. Anders hid in his bedroom, which was barely more than an alcove hidden by a ragged curtain at the far end of his clinic and carefully unfolded the parchment.

He read Karl’s carefully rounded handwriting over and over again, throat tight and heart beating fast. So his old friend haven’t forgotten him. Anders was still missed, loved - it felt like a ray of sunshine in the dark. Even if Karl said no - and Anders was going to respect that decision - at least they’ll have a moment. One precious moment to reminisce and--

And what? The Gallows were swarming with templars, their eyes were everywhere; Anders wasn’t even sure it was safe to hug his old friend. But if he couldn’t, he might just go mad. Karl was the last thing life allowed him to have, aside from the pillow he still stubbornly carried with everywhere.

Thursday seemed so far away.

When it finally did come, Karl was nervous and jittery. He didn't know if Anders would come, or could even risk it; he was still a wanted apostate after all. How he'd managed to go all these years without templar rule was a mystery that he wanted to solve. He focused on setting out the wares for the Tranquil to sell, smiling awkwardly at them when they arrived. There was something terrifying about them – that once they were just like him, but with a simple thing and a brand, the templars could take away everything that made someone individual. It scared him in a way that nothing ever had.

It was rather early, the courtyard just opened, so only a few people were present, checking out the goods. Anders was there, too, but he absolutely had to stop for a moment in a convenient little corner. His hands were shaking; during the ferry ride, some well-meaning merchant asked him if he was alright, because he was as pale as a sheet. Anders joked it off and even chatted on for a few minutes to not rouse suspicion.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down, wiping his sweating palms on his trousers. The templars had no idea what he was; he went as far as leaving his staff at a secure place. Which did nothing for his inner peace, but if push came to shove, he knew that he was able to hold his ground in a fight. And if he had to swim back to the city, well… It couldn’t be worse than Lake Calenhad.

Finally, he straightened and strolled out into the light, keeping his pace casual and paying actual attention to the goods laid out. The Gallows did offer a fine selection of herbs he needed at the clinic. He kept an eye on the sellers as well though; he was very eager to see his old friend.

Karl’s breath caught in his throat when he spotted Anders. His hair was longer than the last time he'd seen him, and there were a lot more scars. His face looked lined with years of stress and worry, but he imagined being an apostate would do that to anyone. He wanted to run over there and throw his arms around him but it would draw too much suspicion and attention. Instead, he managed to wander up the stalls until he was next to him, examining the wares as he was supposed to do.

“Anders…?” he whispered.

There was no reply first, albeit Anders tried to talk; but the words caught in his throat. “Karl,” he finally managed, his voice hoarse. “Such a-- lovely day, isn’t it?” He was close to tears and couldn’t control his hand. It lifted by itself, gently tracing Karl’s sleeve.

“It’s been a while… You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Your hair is longer,” Karl said, a watery smile appearing on his face as he tried not to cry. “I missed you… Maker, I want to kiss you right now…”

The flame flaring up in Anders’ eyes spoke volumes. He moved closer and took Karl’s hand.

“You know this place. You know the templars, let’s find a cover because if not, I’m just going to throw myself at you. I missed you so much. All these years… I’ve had lovers but I never forgot my first.” He glanced around, assessing the possibilities.

“It's not like Kinloch, love,” Karl said softly, squeezing his hand tightly and not letting go. “Meredith isn't like Greagoir. She won't roll her eyes when an apprentice is caught with his trousers down. It's a disciplinary, right away. I don't want them to catch you, not because of me.”

Despite his words, Karl looked around desperately and saw it was Thrask on duty. He grinned widely and pulled Anders into an alley not far from the stalls.

Once they were deep enough into the shadowed nook, Anders pressed his back against the wall and wrenched his friend into a tight embrace.

“Karl, my dear Karl… Don’t worry for me, worry for yourself! I can disappear… you can’t. At least not right away.” He sniffed and buried his face into Karl’s collar. “I missed you. I’ve been through so much… Lost everything but your friendship… Hold me, I want to be sure that this is not a dream!”

Karl was quiet as he held Anders against him tightly. He squeezed his eyes shut, against the tears, against the possibility that this wasn't real. He held the back of Anders’ head with a hand in his hair and pulled him closer still.

“I missed you too… So much… Tell me about your life since Kinloch,” he begged.

Anders laughed, his voice wavering a little from the withheld emotions. “Well, I joined the Grey Wardens, met some interesting people, then left them. Came to Kirkwall, and I think I’ve managed to establish a clinic in Darktown. The Chantry doesn’t seem to be doing its job.” He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath.

“After you were transferred, I tried to escape again, and again… The phylactery wasn’t helping of course. Irving went easy on me though- except for the last fail. I got solitary confinement… for a year.” His eyes were blazing with anger but they mirrored pain as well.

“I very nearly went mad. After that, I got a hint that the phylacteries were relocated to Amaranthine, so I escaped again to find them and destroy mine. That’s when I met the Warden-Commander. He basically saved my life by conscripting me.”

“The Grey Wardens?” Karl asked, blinking in surprise. “Maker, you _have_ been busy. I can't believe they would… Oh, love… You are so strong. So, so strong. Here they would have just made you Tranquil after the first time, we have to be so careful.”

Anders cringed at the mention of Tranquils. “I’d rather die than to live like that, as a walking corpse! Karl please… Don’t risk that fate. I could get you into trouble, I shouldn’t have come here… And I have no right to ask for your help.” He bit his lower lip and looked away. “I haven’t heard anything good about the Gallows. Figures that life led me here… Dear Karl, you remember my ramblings back then, do you? I always talked about freedom and rights for mages. You were so patient with me.” He fondly caressed his friend’s face, rubbing the well-trimmed beard on Karl’s chin.

“Lucky for you, I'm a patient person,” Karl said with a smile.

He reached up and cupped Anders’ face gently in his hands and pulled him down to kiss him softly. It was slow, languid, barely more than a press of lips but so good that Karl could feel his fingers begin to tremble with how much he had missed this, missed Anders.

“What do you need help with?” he asked.

“I-” Anders absolutely couldn’t resist. He pressed their lips together firmly, begging for more without words. The need was so strong, it made him physically ache, he wanted this, he wanted Karl. Parting from Nathaniel rubbed his heart raw and his old lover’s presence was like a soothing balm on the wound.

“First, this,” he breathed. “While we can.”

“Okay,” Karl breathed against his lips, running his hands along skin and cloth and hair, kissing his repeatedly as he pressed close. “I missed you so much, love…”

Karl could feel his heart throbbing with every beat; he wanted to take Anders right here, but he also just wanted to hold him and kiss him and reassure himself that he was alive and here. He settled for pressing him against the wall with his own body and kissing him firmly.

He’d never encountered more enthusiasm in a lover; it was unique to Anders, the eagerness he pushed back with, yielding and controlling at the same time. He opened his mouth wide, inviting Karl in and moaned into the kiss, a needy little noise like a cat’s mewling reverberating in his throat. He wound his arms around Karl tightly and his long fingers fisted into the robes. He even widened his stance and involuntarily thrust his hips forward.

Karl moaned slightly, tongue fucking into Anders’ mouth in a way that he had missed so much. The not-quite-roughness of it contrasted with the loving hands stroking through his hair. He couldn't help himself as he thrust back against Anders, a hand slipping down to grasp Anders’ ass.

A sharp grasp rewarded him and a more forceful thrust forward. Anders was obviously aroused and he pulled Karl even closer to grind against him.

“Maker…!” he panted between two kisses. “I would-- let you take me right here and now! I want you so bad...” There was a sudden pause; Anders blinked then slowly, a smile tugged at his lips. Karl had seen it before, when young Anders just got a brilliant idea. “Karl, let me suck you off.”

Karl rolled his eyes, far too used to Anders’ sudden whims and bright ideas. This was not the worst of them. No, that spot was forever to go to the idea that led to them having sex in the alchemy cupboard and breaking at least ten glass jars full of ingredients.

“You sure?” he asked pointlessly; Anders would not retract a statement like that.

“You can say no,” Anders replied smugly, but he was on the roll already; he gently pushed his friend away and turned him, so Karl’s back was to the entrance of the alley. Anders dropped on his knees in front of him and quickly worked his pants open. Immediately after letting his erection out of its confines, his hands dove under Karl’s robe, traveling up on the legs beneath.

“If anyone looks, they'll probably think you’re taking a piss,” Anders grinned and tugged the fabric up, to get to his prize. He wanted to feel that familiar weight in his hand.

“You think of everything,” Karl teased with a grin.

He had so missed Anders’ mouth; it was perfect, whether it was around his cock or playing with his tongue. He bit back a soft groan as Anders took hold of his cock in his hand. With the ridiculous rules Meredith insisted on putting in place, there was no privacy to do this for himself either; it had been months without his own touch, and Anders had been his last partner. This definitely wouldn't last long.

It seemed that the years did not fade this particular talent; Anders took his friend’s hard flesh into his mouth without hesitation, not stopping until it hit the back of his throat. He teasingly withdrew, then moved forward again, this time letting it slip down. He always enjoyed doing this, but unfortunately, time was short, so he began to work in earnest, one hand on Karl’s lower belly, the other around his own erection, tugging hastily. He wanted to get his satisfaction too, after all.

Karl desperately wanted to take Anders’ length in his hand, his mouth, anything, but Anders was determined and he was hardly about to stop him. He pushed his hands into Anders’ hair and bit his lip to stop from moaning, though the occasionally quiet groan still slipped free. Karl used his grip to direct Anders’ head slightly, though he never pushed further in than Anders allowed.

The heavy breathing, the loud beating of their hearts and the other sounds of pleasure sounded too loud in the shadow of the tall walls; it urged them to go on faster, to avoid getting caught. It did remind them of the old days, though there was less at stake then; Kinloch was rather relaxed in regards of intimate encounters until there were no long-term consequences.

Anders was going into a daze from all the sweet sensations - his lover’s cock sliding down his throat, his hand on his slick erection and the fingers in his hair. He quite liked when others played with it; Karl apparently haven’t forgotten that, either. He could barely get enough air in and his muscles were tensing up and he was rapidly nearing his own peak, too.

“A-Anders, I–” Karl managed to say before his orgasm hit him, winding him with the force of it.

It jerked his hips and made him shudder with ecstasy as he came down Anders’ throat. He wanted to pull the younger mage to his feet and finish him off, but he couldn't find the strength.

Thankfully, Anders required no assistance. He let his friend’s cock slip from his mouth, drops of saliva and semen rolling down his chin and he bit his lower lip to stay quiet as he doubled his efforts on himself. The orgasm hit him ten seconds later, making his back arch and his face contort into a painful expression, making him look adorably vulnerable. For a few seconds, he looked so much like the seventeen year old apprentice, eager to do everything - running, learning, loving.

His seed pooled on the cobblestones and a little blood mixed in the mess already adorning his face, from where he’d managed to split his lip, but he couldn’t care less.

Karl pulled him to his feet and kissed him firmly, licking away the seed and blood to clean him up. He lifted a finger and touched the tiny wound softly, healing it.

“I love you,” Karl whispered, unable to stop himself.

“Don’t say that, please don’t say that, you know that we can’t…” Anders’ voice wavered and his throat tightened. He wanted to say it back, because he loved Karl, so much but-- Anger welled up in him, towards himself. The templars, the Chantry conditioned mages to believe they had no right to love and deep in his heart, Anders still couldn’t let go of it.

He fixed his pants and gently squeezed his friend’s shoulders. “I need your help. I came here to finally do something about mages, the injustice that keeps crushing them. I want the Chantry to realize that we’re human, that our existence isn’t the Maker’s curse on humanity. I want them to accept that we deserve respect and rights instead of hatred and persecution. Enough of the suicides, the beatings, the oppression. I want to help the Gallows’ mages to escape. I need to know about your templars, the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter.” He paused, looking into Karl’s eyes.

“You- don’t have to help. It’s a tremendous risk, and I don’t want anything to happen to you… But it’s not about us. It’s about the hundreds of mages all over Thedas, the children ripped from their parents, the Tranquils who did not deserve a fate worse than death.”

“You know I agree with you,” Karl said, skating his palm over the line of Anders’ throat. “You know how much I hate it, and that if I could, I would change things. Maybe this is our chance. To show people that mages _can_ fall in love, that they don't always become abominations. I want to help.”

Anders threw his arms around Karl’s shoulders and hugged him tight. “Thank you, thank you so much. Together we’ll make the change…!”

He wanted to stay like that forever, feeling loved, cherished, validated. But time was short and Justice was stirring inside, urging him to move, take action. With a shuddering sigh, Anders released his friend

“We should go. Before they come looking. Promise me that you’ll be careful.”

“I promise, love. If you wish to write, give the letters to Thrask. The red-headed Templar, over there. He makes sure we actually get our letters.”

“Still a templar,” Anders growled quietly, but it was his best option; normally, the Chantry didn’t suspect its own.

It took a moment to get used to the sunlight after the comforting shadows, but they had to go on. Anders squeezed Karl’s hand then reluctantly let it slip from his grip.

“From now on, there’s a resistance in Kirkwall,” he whispered. “We’ll grant the mages their freedom.”

“I'm proud of you, love,” Karl whispered with a smile. “So proud. If there's anything I can do from in here, please let me know and if I can, I will. I hope to hear from you soon.”

He touched Anders’ wrist gently and fought the urge to hug him again. He managed to fight it down, but only just.

Anders stepped away before the temptation could have grown irresistible. He smiled at Karl and nodded. “We’ll meet again.”

Then he walked off, feeling both heavy and lighter. He was not alone with his quest. Justice squirmed indignantly at that thought and Anders laughed a little.

“Soon,” he whispered to the spirit. “Soon.”


End file.
